who let the hound out(?)

im sitting in my meditation room, on a sofa put here for old and decrepit people. its my favorite place to sit. my dog is dreaming beside me. shes chasing something, like a rabbit or a deer. her feet are twitching wildly. whimpering noises are filling the room. she just actually woke herself up.
thats not so different from us, really, is it(?)
so ive started to write a new book, which im thinking to call: not hung like my father. i have already begun. i would offer it to the publishers of my book: the bridge between, only they no longer return my emails. they have studiously avoided me for the past couple of years. that may not be a good sign. luckily, for me, i dont write with an eye on acquiring the booker prize. im just happy to help the world with my deep insights, like how our waking state is essentially the same and just as real and as important as my mutts dream chase.
later. luvyas...